


Oh, Professor

by WhispersOfTheMoonlight



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Accidental Plot, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Porn, Because of Reasons, Erotic Poetry, F/M, Getting the Picture?, Gratuitous Smut, Masturbation, Not Beta Read, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Porn Video, Porn Watching, Sex, Sex Toys, Shameless Smut, Smut, Some plot maybe, The Author Regrets Nothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-10-13 21:42:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20589563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhispersOfTheMoonlight/pseuds/WhispersOfTheMoonlight
Summary: Dammit, all Professor Solo wants to do is sleep. Why is he so horny? ... Why does the face in the porn video look familiar?





	Oh, Professor

Professor Benjamin Solo hated his own mind.

  
Yes, it was a very intelligent mind. It had gotten him a PhD in English Literature, and it had enabled him a great many opportunities (mostly scholarships) that would not have been afforded to less intelligent people along the way. It was a sharp mind. It was a cunning mind. It was a skilled mind.

However, it also was a very wicked mind, and it was a very disobedient mind. It was a mind more aware of its own carnal, base cortex that Professor Solo wanted it to be.

In his time as a student, he had done a fair number of science papers. He knew all about the limbic system, the thalamus and hypothalamus, the core drives of fear, food, fight, and fornication. He knew, evolutionarily, why they had remained lodged there behind the prefrontal cortex that allowed him higher thought and an education at the same university as he now taught. He knew that - despite his best efforts - those core, animal instincts would still be there, mocking his desire to be better, colder, aloof.

Take the present point in time, for instance. Currently, Professor Solo wanted to sleep, but his mind was far too busy trying to convince him that he didn’t need sleep because what he really needed was sex. A persistent ache had started just behind his pubic bone, a tingle that ran up his abdomen and down the backs of his thighs, a clenching in his muscles, a throbbing in his half-hard cock.

Professor Solo tried to ignore it. He turned over onto his belly and crushed a pillow over his head, but the friction and the oxygen deprivation made it worse. Pointedly, he forced his hips to stop the little jerks into the mattress that they’d started without his permission.

He turned back over onto his back and threw a hand over his eyes so that he didn’t have to see his own cock standing like a fucking pole waving a black-boxers flag. His hair splayed over the pillow, black and wavy and thick. He would not imagine disembodied fingers running through it. He would not imagine faceless kisses trailed down his exposed neck and onto his bare chest. He would not imagine a hand wrapped around his throat, pressing down on his veins…

_Pull yourself together!_ Professor Solo hissed at his own misbehaving mind. There was no need for this. There had been no deeply arousing event to spark his interest. There was no workplace crush. There was nothing about his day that could possibly lead to a sudden spike in carnal need. He had woken up, gotten ready for his day, gone to work, had a meeting, taught four classes, come home, done some marking, and then prepared for bed. And, now, he was horny.

Well, he had been marking the exercises on the Erotic Poetry lecture last week, but reading student work was really not going to get him going.

Ugh.

Professor Solo sighed. Along with the general details of his limbic system, he was aware that the drive to masturbation was an evolutionary one. Most mammalian animals masturbated. It cleared out old, degraded sperm and allowed room for the production of fresh gametes. It raised the likelihood of successful fertilisation with a healthy sperm in the case of procreation.

Professor Solo just wished that his mind would get that it was not going to reproduce any time soon, so it could bloody well knock off this whole business. Hell, he hadn’t even had a one-night stand in years. Actually, come to think of it, he couldn’t really remember the last he had had an orgasm.

That may well explain the horniness. Apparently, his mind was just as fed up with him as he was with it.

_Fuck it,_ Professor Solo thought, _Well, metaphorically, at least._ He wasn’t going to be able to get to sleep until his flagpole erection was dealt with.

Dammit, if he was going to do this, he was going to do it properly. Guiltily, he reached into the bottom drawer of his bedside table and pulled out the fleshlight stored there. It had been a gag gift from his college friends, but it ended up being quite useful, loathe as he was to admit it. He didn’t form connections. He didn’t love. A one-night stand wasn’t always an option. A faceless cunt was really all he needed right now, just a receptacle for the evolutionary purpose of masturbation.

He didn’t warm it up. He didn’t even use lube. He just folded a pillow over and stuffed the device inside, and then mounted it, tugging his cock free from his boxers and lining it up with that pathetic, silicone cunt. He didn’t push inside it, though, not yet.

He first grabbed his phone from the charging port by his bed and opened an incognito window to PornHub’s website. He typed _Amateur J.O.I._ in the search bar. He didn’t think too hard about why that particular genre of porn appealed to him, about the rush of some pretty woman - not a ‘real’ porno actress, not someone paid to do it, not someone whose moans were practised - ordering him what to do, when he could use his toy, how to touch himself, when he could come… No. He was not thinking about that at all. Porn would just make this whole messy business go that much faster, and that was the whole point of yielding to his body’s needs, just a quick and efficient orgasm, and then sleep. He just liked what he liked.

Professor Solo was not a fussy man, nor was he a particularly moral one. He clicked on the first video without even looking at the name: a thumbnail image of a woman’s mouth painted wine red.

_“Hey, Professor. I hope you see this video,”_ the red lips said in an accented voice that was low and sultry and direct, the owner likely from the ‘good’ part of London (or at least good at sounding like it), _“I wanted to show you how much I want you.”_

Hearing his honorific made him jump, and his eyes snapped to the title of the video. How fitting; it was a J.O.I specifically for a person with a hot-for-teacher kink. That would stoke his limping ego a little.

_“It’s almost like you don’t know how hot you are, Professor. That’s crazy. You have to know, right? You’re so much more than any boy could be.” _The lips spat the word ‘boy’ like a slur._ “Just in case you really don’t know how hot you are, I’m gonna tell you.”_

Little tendrils of brunette hair curled around the face on the screen. That face, from what he could see of it, was narrow and squarish, with a prominent philtrum and thin lips - not entirely symmetrical - with a pointed cupid’s bow.

_“Professor, you don’t know what you do to me, every single class. Every time you toss your head to get your hair out of your face…. Your hair is so thick and so black and so long. I bet it’s soft, too. It looks soft. I wanna run my fingers through it. I wanna feel it slide between my fingers. I wanna grip handfuls of it as you bury your face between my thighs.”_

Straight, white teeth peeked from behind the red top lip, sinking into the soft flesh of the lower one. She made even the act of stroking his hair sound so erotic. He didn’t even know what she looked like, and she had him running his hands lightly through his own long, black hair, just gently, pretending that his big fingers were instead her slim, tapered ones. He was sure her fingers would be slim and tapered.

_“You are so striking. There isn’t anyone who looks quite like you. You are unique. Original. A work of art. I know there are people who think your face isn’t so handsome, but clearly they don’t know what a good man looks like. I love your beauty spots, your lowered brows, your deep, dark eyes, your aquiline nose, your plush mouth. Oh, your mouth is so sinful. Your lips look even softer than your hair. Fuck, I wanna kiss you. I wanna feel you own me, own my mouth and my tongue and my body. I want those sinful lips of yours to kiss every inch of me, to bite me, to mark me. I wanna be your good girl, Professor. I would be so good for you.’_

_‘I love how big you are, Professor. You must be… what? Six-foot-two? And, it’s not just your height, Professor. You’re so broad and just so big. I love the way your muscles flex under those white button-down shirts you always wear. It’s porn all by itself. Those shirts don’t really leave that much to the imagination. I love it when you roll your sleeves up to your elbows, and I get to see all the ropey muscles in your forearms. It’s clear you work out. You work out, don’t you, Professor? I wanna see you shirtless. I wanna see all that muscle on show. I’d give you a good massage, rub you all over in oil, see all those big muscles gleam.’_

_‘Speaking of how big you are…. I bet your cock’s just as big as the rest of you, isn’t it, Professor?” _

Professor Solo found himself thinking two things at the same time. One part of him wanted to skip forward, get to the good part, where there was more than just a pair of lips on the screen, so he could sink into his fleshlight and get off and go to sleep. The other part, however, was thinking about the woman’s continued description of her adored professor and starting to feel a little concerned. He ran his hand over his beauty spots, his lowered brow, his big nose. He looked down at his broad shoulders and strong forearms, and then over at his wardrobe full of white dress shirts. Yes, he was 6’2, and yes, he worked out. This was starting to get creepy.

That was a coincidence, right?

This all had to be a coincidence. There were plenty of tall men with dark brown eyes and moles who worked out and dressed professionally. He was not unique.

_“But, I’m sure you don’t just wanna listen to me talk about how hot you are. I know you think lots of description is a waste of time. I should start with the action of this little story, shouldn’t I? I should start telling you about what I want you to do to me. I hinted at it. Have you gotten my hints? Have you read my poem yet? What did you think, Professor? I gotta say, though, when you were reading that John Donne poem, To His Mistress Going to Bed, if I had been sitting in the back of the Hall, I think I would have touched myself. I touched myself when I got home, and I imagined you were reading it just to me. I don’t know if you’re married, Professor, but I’d be your Mistress.”_

He looked at the date stamp. The video had been uploaded the day after his lecture on erotic poetry last week, and he had read aloud that particular John Donne poem.

Okay, he was going to watch the whole video.

The chances were one in about a billion, but curiosity burned hotter than his arousal. Besides, he really could use the ego boost, even if it was about some other bastard whose student was hot for teacher.

_“Would you listen to your Mistress, Professor?” _the red lips continued,_ “Would you touch yourself for me? Would you touch yourself and pretend it’s my hands?”_

Yes, this is what he wanted. He wanted some anonymous woman to tell him how to touch himself. He wanted to sink into the fleshlight and pretend it was some pretty woman who wanted him.

The woman’s voice hitched, and the mouth moved on the screen, and somehow, Professor Solo knew that she had started touching herself. When she spoke again, her voice was the little bit more breathy, more gasping, more wild.

_“I want you to start slow. I mean really slow. I want you to run your fingers through your hair, and imagine it’s me, and think about how much I love it. I want you to trace the shells of your ears with your fingertips. Is that something they say? Big ears, big dick? _

_Anyway. Trace the shells of your ears and feel the hard, firm cartilage. Think about how hard your cock is. Your cock’s hard for me, right, Professor? I’m so hot for you. Can you hear?” _

The woman stopped talking for a moment, and Professor Solo heard the wet squish of her fingers working somewhere below the camera. His cock twitched. He leaned back on his haunches, no longer mounting the pillow and fleshlight, and did what she told him to.

_“Stroke your fingers down the sides of your throat. Feel your pulse under your fingertips. Is it racing? Rest your fingers in the little hollow at the base of your throat. Run your hands over your collarbones, and now down to your pecs. Your pecs are bigger than my tits, Professor. It’s enough to make a girl envious. _

_‘I wanna grab your pecs. I wanna feel how big and firm they are. Grab them for me, Professor, and imagine it’s my hands. I know your hands are so much bigger than mine, but just pretend. Please? _

_Do you like having your nipples played with, Professor? I know a lot of guys say they don’t, because they think it’s ‘girly’, but they secretly do. Are you one of those men, Professor? If you are, I want you to play with your nipples for me. If not, then just keep moving your hands lower. Do you have an eight-pack, Professor? I’m guessing you do. You’re ripped.” _

Professor Solo did like having his nipples played with, as much as he would never admit it. Now, he rubbed the rough pads of his thumbs over them, relishing the harsh friction.

_“Are you getting desperate yet, Professor? Do you want to touch yourself? Do you want to wrap a hand around your cock and get yourself off?”_

Yes, yes, he did. Professor Solo ground down on his nipples, his nails digging into the firm flesh of his belly. Ugh, she talked so dirty, and he was loving it.

_“Do it.”_ The command was bitten out between rasping breaths. _“Touch yourself. Oh… oh, fuck! Please, Professor. I’m starting to get close. I want you to come after me. I want you to feel so good.”_

Professor Solo broke the rules. Instead of touching himself, he mounted the pillow again, slamming his cock into the cold, dry squeeze of the fleshlight and pretending it was the pretty set of lips on his phone screen. He imagined his cock hitting the back of her slim little throat, the sounds she would make as she took it, the way her eyes would water and her cheeks would hollow.

_“See what you do to me, Professor? See what a mess you make of me?”_ For the first time, the camera panned down, and Professor Solo watched with hungry eyes and snapping hips as her body was revealed. Fuck. The tendons in her throat stood out like whipcords as she moved; her shoulders were narrow, but strong, and dusted with freckles; her breasts were small and pert and pale, the nipples dusky rose, and they bounced with every motion; the muscles in her stomach flexed as she dug into the mattress and lifted her hips. Professor Solo followed her lean, ropey arm down to the hand between her thighs, and she stopped just to pull her fingers away with a wet slide, holding them up to the camera and showing off the webbed strings of arousal between them. _“I’m like this for you every. Single. Class. I’m sitting there in a puddle, listening to the way your voice dips when you read, watching you pace in front of the class. I want you so bad. Now, like this, I’ve got you, don’t I, Professor? Touch yourself for me. Imagine my body and my voice and my touch. Imagine it’s me with you right now. Imagine it’s me you’re filling up with your cock. Look.”_

The camera changed angles very slightly, and Professor Solo watched obediently as the girl’s fingers parted her folds, giving him a real clear view of her cunt as she thrust three fingers into her own heat and jerked them in and out roughly.

Professor Solo eagerly matched her pace, replacing the thought of her mouth with the picture of her cunt, almost believing he really was fucking her instead of that dry, silicone toy. Fuck, he should have just used lube. That would make this so much nicer, because it wasn’t just a ‘go-to-sleep’ jerk off any more. No. He wanted to feel her. He wanted to fuck her. Oh, the need to fuck her was almost too much. He wanted her heat and her wetness, and fuck, he could hear the sounds her fingers were making and the sounds her mouth was making so far above now, these little moans and whimpers, and oh… oh! He was going to come. He could feel his muscles spasming, his pace getting rougher and rougher, his balls curling tight into his body….

She seemed to be just as desperate. The hand holding up the camera was shaking, and it seemed to take her too much effort to focus it on her cunt anymore. Professor Solo got flashes of her lean thighs, her bent knees, her flat stomach, her perfect breasts… her familiar face.

Oh. Oh, no. Fuck. No.

Professor Solo went to stop, to pull out, to turn the video off, but it was too late.

The image of his student’s face burned onto the surface of his eyes, Professor Solo came, humping the pillow, spurting hot and thick into the toy’s fake folds, the muscles in his abdomen jerking like he’d been electrocuted. He moaned his confusion and his pleasure, feeling the swell and tide of his release. It felt so good, and he hated every second.

When his orgasm was over, he was left staring at his phone screen, just in time to hear the girl’s breathy _‘I’m gonna… Oh, Professor… Oh…!’_, just in time for her arm to stretch right out about her, the camera now a wide angle over her as her body bowed up off the bed in a smooth arc, her toes curling into the sheets, her face scrunching up, her hand working between her thighs as she rode out her own orgasm. She moaned through it, and Professor Solo swore he heard his own name breathed through her pink lips.

She came down slowly, rolling her neck, and staring up into the camera she held aloft. Professor Solo stared at the face of one of his students, with his cock still hanging out of his boxers, the tip still buried in his fleshlight, his come cooling inside it. The student he had just jerked off to, touched himself for, imagined giving him head, pictured fucking as he humped a fucking fleshlight.

_“I wasn’t going to show my face, but I’m pretty sure I did by mistake anyway, so what the hell. Now you know it’s me, Professor.” _

Her name was Rey. She sat in the second row from the front, just to the right side. He noticed the students who sat there, because they tended to be the most studious. She was, he remembered, studious. She did well on assignments, and it was not due to any natural talent in English Literature. He had never once, not even for a moment, considered that the words she scribbled down sitting in his class may just not be notes.

He tugged his cock free of the fleshlight and tucked himself back into his boxers. He was so fucked.

_“How was that, Professor? Did it feel as good for you as it did for me?”_ Professor Solo blinked. It felt like he was watching a car crash in slow motion. He couldn’t look away. She was so… coy, so… innocent and breathless and seductive without even trying. _“It felt really good for me. I really wish you could fuck me for real. I want you so bad. Part of me really hopes you see this video.”_

She reached forward, and the video ended.

Well, he’d seen it now, and he couldn’t even begin to process how he felt about that. Professor Solo blinked again as he realized that there was now a video on PornHub all about him, viewed by… (he checked the number down the bottom of the screen) 2.4K views. In just over a week, over two thousand people had seen his student’s face as she made herself come thinking about him. Over two thousand people knew that his student had the hots for him.

What the hell was he going to do? Did he speak to Rey about it? Did he get her transferred to another class? Did he just act like nothing had changed? Could he really just pretend that he hadn’t witnessed what he’d just witnessed? Could he ever look her in the eye again?

Professor Solo had wanted two things: an orgasm and sleep. He'd gotten the orgasm, sure, but he had an awful feeling that he was not going to sleep tonight. 


End file.
